Shades and Cape with Brastrap
by lijdgreat916
Summary: After spending seven years in a dust ball of a town, Shades Manliness and his brother Cape Manliness, are finally transferred to a more exciting city. Unfortunately for them, the city is already occupied by two equally aggressive angels. The 5 trillion Heaven debt the two brothers have managed to accumulate isn't helping either.


It was a hot day on July 7th, 20XX.

The place? Wesiro Town. The time? 11:58 a.m. Specifically, in front of the old dusty saloon, which also happened to double as the town's clock tower. A crowd had gathered out front, intending to witness a spectacle the likes of which have never been seen by mortal eyes. A clash between two supernatural beings, each of incomprehensible strength and power. A duel between two wayward travelers, each intent on crossing the others path. A match between two restless souls that could only end in blood. A feud long ago forged in the forgotte-

"Would you hurry the hell up?!"

Damnit man, I'm trying to be epic here!

"'Trying' being a key phrase here. Look, I understand you're not the greatest Narrator money could buy, but could you tone down the cheesiness? This is Panty and Stocking, not Soul Calibur!"

Shut up, ass hat. I'm gettin' paid by the hour here. I don't bitch about you doin' your job, so don't bitch about me doin' mine, okay? Jesus. Okay, um, where exactly was I?

"A dusty saloon, almost high noon?"

Oh, thanks. _Ahem. _So yeah, just picture one of those scenes in an old western film where the gunslinger cowboy protagonist is about to throw down with the Caucasian/Mexican/Clint Eastwood look alike antagonist. You know, the ones you probably used to watch as a kid. And when I say western, I mean a _real _western, not that _Brokeback Mountain_ crap. That shit scared me for life.

"I hear ya Broseph, those were some tough times. My condolences."

Thanks man. You know, I sometimes wondered what my life would be like if I'd just stuck to watchin' the _Three Amigos__. _My wife probably wouldn't have left me, I'd still have a full head of hair, my car wouldn't stall on me every five minutes. Huuuh. I could have been a fucking millionaire by now! But watching _Brokeback Mountain, _it just... it changed everything... it changed my LIFE man!

"..."

...

"... well, we got off track pretty fast."

I know. And it hasn't even hit the 500 word count yet.

"Yeah. So far, this fanfic just seems like one pointless drabble meant to expand the authors story count."

Hold on a second, this is _another _fanfic? Aw shit, I was just starting to think this was an actual piece of fiction, or at least an entry on fictionpress. Are you trying to tell me I've been suckered into narrating another one of those poorly written sob stories?

"Hey, that's not entirely fair. There are some genuinely good fics out there! Sure, it could be theoretically argued that every entry in this site is somewhat lacking in originality due to being based off an already existing property, but that's no reason to shun them!"

Oh yeah? Give me a good one.

"Well personally, I find the author lijdgreat916 as a legitimately good read."

Oh really.

"Yeah, he's a definite favorite of mine. Maybe when this chapter is done I could show you his entries."

Fine. Actually, now that I think about it, is our author any good?

"I don't know. I might have pointed it out earlier, but so far this fic seems to have no purpose. He's probably some lazy ass who'd create an entirely out-of-context story just to promote his, quote 'serious works', unquote."

You mean like the first episode of _Lucky Star_?

"Exactly!"

Hey, did we just reference a show that's not canonically associated with us in any way both legally and fandom-based?

"Well yeah, but it was done in the name of humor."

So then, we just technically broke the fourth wall, right?

"..."

... can we do that?

"..."

...

"... you might as well just start over."

Dusty saloon, clock tower, high noon, wayward souls, Soul Calibur reference, fourth wall, boats and hoes, boats and hoes, gotta have my damn boats and hoes, and liquor for your momma and - AH HAH! Alright, here we go, for realsies this time. _Ahem._

A lone man stood his ground in the middle of the town square. He was waiting for his opponent, a man who had grievously wronged him. His hands twitched as they lovingly stroked the leather holsters of his duel revolvers. The glint off the metal of his weapons caught the eye of every spectator, so caught were they in the trance of anticipation. A faint breeze was blowing through the hot air, catching wind in the rough cloth of his cloak. His eyes, what little the crowd could see of them, were hardened into a piercing squint, fixated on the far-off horizon, just waiting.

The man had been standing there for some time now, still as a statue and unmoving as a stubborn bull. An hour had passed since he laid his feet upon the ground which he now stood, not moving an inch, not moving a muscle. The atmosphere within the town, once ordinary and caught in the doldrums of everyday activity, had screeched to a halt in his arrival. A sense of foreboding permeated through the air like smoke, thick and clingy as it too.

Yet still the man waited.

And then it came.

At first, it was just a far off rumble in the distance. A few pebbles on the dust struck ground moved, yet this was dismissed as the wind. Another rumble, and a few keys were played off-note in the saloon. The third shaking of the earth had the townspeople stumbling about, attempting to find a semblance of balance. The gyration suddenly ceased, and with it the wobbling of the citizens. All had regained some sense of stability, and were glad that whatever had just happened had stopped... happening.

"You know, you didn't have to add that last part in there, it sounded just fine."

The people of Wesiro were shocked at the mysterious strangers sudden speech, directed at seemingly no one.

"Oh, so now you're gonna make me look like I'm off the deep end, huh? I thought we were starting to get along."

The townspeople, whilst observing the gunslinger conversing with his imaginary company, idly thought, through no type of omniscient intervention whatsoever, that since the narrator didn't bitch about the gunslingers job, than maybe the gunslinger shouldn't bitch about the narrators job.

"... okay, point taken. Oh, and also, small gripe, but, um, well, ya see-"

Get on with it.

"I couldn't help but notice you gave me a pair of revolvers for weapons. And by the way you described me caressing them, that would imply I've used them for quite a while."

You know, I hear words coming out of your mouth, yet I fail to comprehend anything you're saying. It's so weird.

"Stop being a douche and give me a damn sword."

... what? N-no! We've already got a character that uses a sword! And unless you intend to pull a Gary Stu on her, which, in the name of good taste, you shouldn't, then you don't get one.

"Oh come on! Technically speaking, I'm her predecessor so I should get the sword! I'd ask for a spear-drill, but that's Cape's shtick. And besides, _my sword _makes Sephiroth's sword look like a pussy! And besides, the one time I used a gun I nearly shot myself with it. My girlfriend is more practiced in hardware then I am."

Well, I guess we could make an exception here. Alright, you can have your damn katana.

"Alright!"

Now, we can get back to the actual story. _Ahem. _The swordslinger-

"LAME!"

Shut the fuck up! The _swordsman _held steadfast and unwavering, not willing to be deterred by something as trivial as the ground shaking. There, how was that? Sorry, but by the look on your face I thought you were gonna make another comment on my narrating again. He stood his ground bravely, determined to face his foe. Suddenly, and without warning-

"Hey, can I-"

WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT!? WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE FLYING SPAGHETTI MONSTER COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT FROM ME NOW!? I SWEAR TO HARUHI, YOU'RE LIKE A DAMN KID! 'DADDY, I WANT THIS, DADDY I WANT THAT, DADDY, MOMMY BROUGHT BACK A STRANGE MAN WITH HER WHILE YOU WERE GONE AGAIN.' SHUT THE FLYING FUCK UP! GET BACK IN YOUR ROOM, THINK ABOUT WHAT A LITTLE SHIT YOU ARE, AND WHILE YOU'RE AT IT, GO FETCH DADDY A COLD ONE!

"..."

Oh, nothing to say now, huh? Huh? HUH?

"..."

Well, good to see that for once you don't have anything to sa-

"Someone's been honing their alcoholic dad act, hmm?"

ARRRGH! Get your head out of your ass, dammit! I've got a fanfic to narrate, and you've got a phallus to do battle with.

"Well fine, I'll stop. Geez, you're so easy to- wait, what was that about a phallus?"

Suddenly, an explosion of dirt and debris spewed forth from the ground. From it burst forth a shadow of massive proportions, arching into the air. It was a colossal being, bigger and taller than any building in the small town. It towered over the swordsman, it's features obscured by the dust in the air. From the shadow, two gigantic orbs of pure crimson opened up, no doubt the monstrosity's eyes, frightening in their sheer size and holding a distict glimmer of madness.

"Hold on a second." The swordsman stood back so as to observe this foul beast. From top to bottom his hardened gaze roamed, analyzing every abnormality in the creature. "You know, it _does _look pretty phallic." Upon closer inspection, the townspeople realized that yes indeed, the writhing mass looked disturbingly similar to a man's unmentionables.

The swordsman pointed one of his muscular arms directly at the creature. His face was red with blood, not in embarrassment at the beasts ungainly appearance, but contorted into an expression of pure, unadulterated rage. "Fuck yeah, it's rage! Are you trying to tell me that of all the things the author could have sent for my debut battle, it had to be a _GIANT BLACK DILDO_!?"

My condolences, Broseph.

"Well gee, thanks, I feel all warm and tingly inside. Can we just skip to the mediocre fight scene?"

What? No! There are plenty of things I'm supposed to do before that! I have to build up the tension, explain why exactly why you two guys are fighting in the first place, and don't even get me started on the whole Ghost to Heavens exchange rate...

"Look man, I don't know about you, but I am getting tired of not doing anything real fast. If I don't stab, maim, or disembowel something in the next thirty seconds, I'm gonna snap. Hell, I just might gouge a certain someone's eyeballs out. So unless you want to learn to read your lines in Braille, I suggest you make with the wordplay, before I come up to wherever you happen to be narrating from, and _personally kick the ever loving shit out of_ you. Capiche?"

Look, as much as I'd like to do that, I can't.

"... did you not comprehend what I just said?"

Well, yeah, but, just look behind you.

Deciding for once in his life to listen to the narrator, (which, according to the aforementioned narrator, was a very wise choice indeed) the swordsman turned around to find a corpse. Of the phallic beast.

The swordsman, who, for the sake of the author's hands, shall henceforth be known from this moment on as Shades, was understandably pissed. Not because someone had just robbed him of his chance to look like a badass fighting machine (which, if the Shades thought about it, _also _pissed him off) but because-

"Wait a minute, did the author just kill that thing _off screen_?"

...yeah?

"THAT WAS A TOTAL COP OUT!"

In a fit of childish rage, which really didn't fit the contextual setting at all, Shades jumped up and down in the dirt, sputtering curses left and right. Curses which the author would prefer not to have to specify in the name of good taste, not to mention some of the curses were references in disguise, which would add to the already lengthy disclaimer that the author planned to put at the end of the chapter. Which is odd really, since disclaimers usually go at the beginning of the story. Why the author would use such an unconventional method shall remain undisclosed.

**I forgot. **

Apparently he forgot. In any case, our attention is temporarily diverted from Shades to the other main character of the story. The same guy who killed the phallic creature from before off screen. The character, also known as Simo-

"Actually, we're supposed to be going by our script names. If you wouldn't mind, that is."

Oh. In that case, Cape, aka the Driller-

"Wait, I'm not known as-"

-stood on the other side of the beast's corpse as his brother Shades continued spewing profanities. A small sweatdrop adorned his had as he witnessed his brother chase an innocent bystander with his sword in an attempt to vent his frustration. Would Cape try to stop Shades? The answer would be no, as Shades was a good guy, which, according to the _Handbook of Stereotypical Shounen Hero Behavioral Tendencies, _meant that he couldn't kill a person unless it was the main antagonist. So the bystander was safe for now.

* * *

"What the hell was that!?" Shades exclaimed, pointing frantically at the object above him.

Cape took yet another sip of his smoothie before deciding to answer his bro. "It's called a line break. All the cool authors use 'em these days.

"Why?"

"It's used to initiate either a time jump or a switch in character perspectives."

"Oh. Is that why we're in a diner right now?"

"Yup."

"Well in that case," Shades stood up and cupped his hands around his hands around his mouth, "HEY, CAN A GUY GET SOME SERVICE AROUND HERE?"

* * *

"Are those things gonna crop up a lot?"

"I don't think so. Right now is probably an exception because the author is trying to move things along."

"I see." No he didn't. Shades continued munching on the pigmole hamburger he had ordered. "Hey, how many Heavens did we get from killing that ghost?'

Cape reached into his pocket and withdrew seven small golden coins. For whatever reason, they seemed to sparkle, despite there being no light shining on them. "Seven. It's actually kinda weird, seeing as how most of the ghost give us one or two. And that phallic lookin' one barely put up a fight."

Suddenly, Shades sat a little straighter. "Oh no, you know what that means..."

"A sudden dip in writing quality?"

"N-" Shades seemed to ponder this. "Well, maybe, but whenever we get an excess amount of coins, we usually get transferred."

Cape looked up. "You mean like with Krypton?"

"Yeah, and we both know _that _didn't end up too well."

Suddenly, a a flash of light illuminated the inadequately described diner. The customers hid under their tables and the waitress, who just so happened to be carrying Shades fourth pigmole hamburger, shrieked in terror, the aforementioned hamburger landing on Shades recently vacated plate. The light dimmed, and from it walked... a mini robot?

Cape flashed a smile. "Hey Nnagal, whats up?" He held his hand down to the floor, where the mini robot Nnagal hooped onto it. After setting the robot down onto the table he offered it a drink of his smoothie. "Any new orders from Up Top?"

Politely refusing the drink, as a robot not only disliked strawberry, but couldn't actually drink it in the first place, Nnagal instead pulled out an inconspicuous piece of paper from behind him. Thanking Nnagal, Cape took the message and proceeded to read it.

Devouring yet another hamburger, Shades glanced at the robot, who bowed in return. "'Sup, Nnagal." He then looked at his bro, who had finished reading the paper. "So, was I right or what?"

"Yeah, you were right."

"Alright! I hated this dustball of a town anyways!" Shades pointedly ignored the hate filled stares of the diner's occupants. "So, where are we headed?"

"... Daten City."

Shades good demeanor vanished. "... isn't that where-"

"Yeah."

"..."

"..."

"... fuck me."

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Panty and Stocking, Soul Calibur, Clint Eastwood, Brokeback Mountain, The Three Amigos, Fictionpress dot com, Lucky Star, Soul Calibur _again, _Final Fantasy VII, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann, the Handbook of Stereotypical Shounen Hero Behavioral Tendencies, the word 'Broseph', or a diner. This piece of fiction was written for the sole sake of my enjoyment. Also because I got bored. **


End file.
